• 11- ʏ/ɴ •

There's something nice about being inside a warm, cozy pizzeria while the cold air bites outside. The smell of fresh dough and melted cheese wraps around me like a hug.

The dim lighting makes everything feel softer, and the little red-and-white checkered tablecloth in front of me is the perfect touch.

I rest my elbows on the table, looking around, soaking it all in.

This place is kind of perfect-small, quiet but not too quiet, with the occasional burst of laughter from another table. The heater hums softly in the background, making my cheeks feel warm.

And then there's JUNGKOOK, sitting across from me, ruining the peace with his permanent scowl.

The waiter approaches, a guy around our age with soft brown curls and a bright smile. "Hey! Welcome to Franco's. What can I get you guys?" His voice is warmn and effortless, like he actually enjoys this job.

I open my mouth, but before I can speak, JUNGKOOK shifts in his seat, arms crossed, jaw tight. His eyes flick up at the guy, dark and sharp.

"We're still deciding," he says flatly.

The waiter doesn't falter, still smiling. "Of course, take your time."

JUNGKOOK doesn't say anything, just stares him down like the guy just insulted his entire bloodline.

I kick him under the table. "Stop that."

He leans back in his chair, rubbing his shin. "Stop what?"

"Glaring. He's being nice."

JUNGKOOK scoffs. "He's being too nice."

I roll my eyes, flipping the menu open. "Whatever. Let's just pick something."

"I want pepperoni," he says immediately.

I wrinkle my nose. "That's so basic."

"It's classic."

"It's boring."

JUNGKOOK lifts a brow. "And what, exactly, do you want?"

I point at the menu. "Mushroom and truffle."

He stares at me like I just suggested eating cardboard. "Mushroom and truffle?"

"It's fancy."

"It's pretentious."

"It's delicious."

"It's disgusting."

I scoff, shaking my head. "You have the taste buds of a child."

"And you have the taste buds of someone who thinks paying extra for fancy fungus makes them cultured."

I gasp. "Excuse me-"

The waiter returns right in the middle of our little standoff, looking amused. "So, have we decided?"

I nod. "Yeah, we'll have the-"

"Pepperoni," JUNGKOOK cuts in.

I glare. "Mushroom and truffle."

The waiter blinks. "Uh-"

"Fine." I sigh. "We'll get both."

JUNGKOOK shakes his head but doesn't argue, and soon, the waiter disappears to put in our order.

I lean back in my seat, watching JUNGKOOK as he fiddles with the edge of his menu. The usual tension in his jaw has softened, just a little.

Maybe it's the warmth of the restaurant, or the fact that we're sitting here, bickering over pizza like normal people instead of dodging whatever weird tension exists in our lives.

It's... nice.

Almost nice, having a roommate.

I take a sip of my drink, hiding my smile.

The waiter returns with our order, setting them down with that same warm, easygoing smile.

"Here you go," he says, sliding my order toward me. Then, with a quick glance at JUNGKOOK-who's still wearing his signature scowl-he subtly places a folded napkin beside my drink.

I blink at it, unfolding it curiously.

A number.

I bite back a laugh. That's adorable.

JUNGKOOK, on the other hand, looks like he's about two seconds away from launching the poor guy out the window. His jaw tightens, his fingers tapping against the table in a way that feels distinctly threatening.

I glance up at the waiter, who's suddenly looking a little nervous. "Enjoy your meal," he says quickly before making a swift exit.

The moment he's gone, I turn to JUNGKOOK with the biggest grin. "Oh my God."

His glare snaps to me. "Don't."

"This is hilarious." I wiggle the napkin in front of him. "Wait, are you mad?"

He scoffs. "Why would I be mad?"

I smirk. "I don't know. Maybe because a perfectly nice, perfectly adorable guy just gave me his number?"

"He's not adorable."

"He totally is." I hold up the napkin again, just to rub it in. "Should I text him?"

JUNGKOOK doesn't even hesitate. He reaches across the table and plucks the napkin right out of my hands.

"Hey!" I lunge for it, but he casually leans back, holding it out of reach.

"You weren't gonna text him," he says, completely sure of himself.

I narrow my eyes. "You don't know that."

"Yes, I do." He glances at the napkin, then, before I can stop him, he rips it in half.

He ripped it in half?!

I gasp, shocked. "JUNGKOOK!"

He shrugs, tossing the pieces onto the table like it's no big deal. "Oops."

I stare at the torn napkin, then back at him. "You are so dramatic."

"Says the girl making a scene over some guy's number she wasn't even gonna use."

I cross my arms, leaning back with a huff. "You don't know that," I mumble.

JUNGKOOK just smirks, taking a sip of his drink like he's won.

"Eat your truffles, ARCHER."

. . . . .

It's been a few days since the rooftop incident with JUNGKOOK. And, strangely enough, we have been quiet civil to each other.

Tonight, I sit on the bed, scrolling through my phone, glancing at the time every few minutes.

It's almost like the universe is conspiring to make me feel like I'm missing out.

JUNGKOOK had mentioned the party earlier -some guy from his business class, a random invite that didn't seem interesting enough.

I'd told him I wasn't going. Too loud, too crowded, too much of everything I wasn't in the mood for.

But now? It's quiet. Too quiet. And with him gone, it feels even emptier.

I glance at the clock again.

It's not even that late. And I'm... bored.

I stare at the text I sent him earlier: No thanks, I'll pass on the party.

I hesitate for a second, then hit reply: Actually, I'll go.

I glance around the room.

Alright, no more excuses. This is happening.

Sighing, I get up and take off my hoodie, tossing it on the chair as I head for the wardrobe.

I pull on my emerald green blouse, the rich shade making my eyes pop. The flowy fabric cinches at the waist, creating a flattering silhouette with a neckline that's just bold enough.

I pair it with a sleek black leather skirt that falls just above my knees, its glossy finish catching the light and hugging my hips perfectly. It's daring but comfortable, swaying with every step.

Slipping into black ankle boots with a chunky heel, I add a little height and confidence, ready for whatever the night brings.

I finish the look with a swipe of red lipstick, bold and confident, and a coat of mascara that makes my hazel eyes pop. I also put on some subtle shimmer eyeshadow. As I check myself in the mirror, I can't help but grin-feeling hot, happy, and more than ready for the night ahead.

. . . . .

The music is pounding, the beats vibrating through my body as I stand with my drink in hand, scanning the crowd.

The place is buzzing-people laughing, chatting, dancing. I'm right in the middle of it all, having made a few new friends already. We're playing some silly rounds of truth or dare, and I'm enjoying every second.

I'm laughing when my gaze shifts across the room and I spot him. JUNGKOOK. I notice him right away-how could I not?

The messy dark hair, the sharp jawline, the tattoos peeking from under his sleeves. He's leaning against the wall, drink in hand, exuding that effortless party energy.

He's got that magnetic presence, like everyone around him can't help but pay attention.

His dark eyes scan the room, and for a moment, they land on me. His gaze runs from my head to my toe and all I can do is freeze. And then, he casually looks away.

I force myself to look away, shaking my head to snap out of it. He's not just good-looking; it's also way he holds himself. It's everything about him.

Y/N, control your hormones.

I try to refocus on the game. "Helena," a girl calls, "truth or dare?"

"Dare," she replies, grinning.

The group bursts into laughter, already plotting something ridiculous. I'm so chilled right now it's like I've had a dozen drinks. I'm just going with the flow.

Then, as I take another sip of my drink, I see him. Ugh, he's here too?

TAEHYUNG.

He strolls into the circle, his presence unmistakable. His confidence is almost obnoxious, that cocky grin plastered on his face.

There's always this air about him-like he's too much of everything, too loud, too brash, and he doesn't care. It's a little sickening, and I instantly feel the familiar knot in my stomach.

I try to focus on the game again, but the tension in the room shifts as he settles into the circle, the group parting slightly to make room for him. His eyes scan the group, and when they land on me, I can't shake the chill that runs down my spine.

He smiles at me.

I feel sick.

A guy, already tipsy, leans forward with a grin. "Alright, TAE," he says, smirking, "I dare you to kiss the most beautiful girl in the room."

I wish I could look away, but I can't. It's like the room holds its breath for a moment.

Then, TAEHYUNG's gaze locks onto mine, and there's no escaping it. He's already moving toward me with that same smug expression, his movements casual, like he's done this a million times before.

I try to swallow, but my throat feels tight.

The room is quieting, the air thick with anticipation, and before I can even react, he's standing in front of me.

No, please, no.

I don't know what's worse-the fact that he's about to kiss me or the way the group is watching, waiting for a show.

His hand is on my chin before I can protest, pulling me toward him with an unsettling ease.

I try to step away, to push him away- I swear I do, but my body is frozen. I can't move.

His lips are cold at first, but then they press harder, more insistent. My body stiffens, and my mind is screaming at me to pull away, but I'm frozen, trapped in his grasp.

It's wrong. Every inch of it feels wrong.

I feel bile rise up my stomach. I think I'm going to throw up.

When he finally pulls back, his smug grin says it all. I'm left standing there, feeling exposed and gross, as if I've just been violated in front of everyone.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see JUNGKOOK.

He's standing by the door, his eyes fixed on me, a sharp look flashing across his face. But he doesn't move. Doesn't speak. Just watches as I stand there, completely humiliated.

I can't even look at TAEHYUNG anymore. I need to leave. I want to leave. But the room is too small, and I'm too frozen in place to do anything.

. . . . .

The air outside is thick and humid, the kind that sticks to my skin and makes my head feel heavier than it already is.

My stomach twists.

I don't know if it's the alcohol or the absolute nightmare I just lived through, but I feel sick. Disgusted. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand like it'll erase what just happened. It doesn't.

I shouldn't have come here at all.

I squeeze my arms around myself and look around. The street is lined with cars, but I don't have one. I walked here.

And now I feel like I might throw up, or pass out, or-

My eyes land on JUNGKOOK.

He's standing by the doorway, half in the party, half out. His expression is hard, unreadable, but his hands are shoved into his pockets like he's barely holding something back. Like he's trying not to react. He's mad-I can tell.

I swallow and step toward him, daringly.

"Can you please drive me home?" My voice is small.

JUNGKOOK doesn't look at me. He exhales through his nose, slow, controlled, like he's measuring his words before they come out.

And then, finally, he speaks.

"Nah." He shrugs, shifting his weight. "I wanna stay. Ask your other friends."

And just like that, he turns to leave.

The sick feeling in my stomach claws up my throat.

My skin is too tight, my chest feels crushed, and I don't know if it's because I'm dizzy or because it's him. Because he's leaving me like this, like I don't matter, like I didn't just-

"JUNGKOOK." My voice shakes. I squeeze my eyes shut. "Please."

Everything stops.

He halts mid-step, his shoulders stiff, his back straight as a board. My breath catches.

Slowly, slowly, he turns. His dark eyes flick over me-my unsteady stance, my glossy eyes, my arms wrapped around myself like they're the only thing holding me together.

Something shifts in his expression. It's subtle. A tiny crease between his brows. A clench in his jaw.

Then, without a word, he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders. The warmth of it seeps into my skin. The jacket is huge on me, and it smells like him.

I almost feel a bit safer.

He looks like he is pissed and I don't want him to lash out on me- not that he ever has. I pull on the sleeves of the jacket, waiting. Fiddling.

All I want to do is get out of here.

He exhales sharply. And then, his voice low and firm, he says, "Walk."

I blink.

He doesn't wait for me to respond. He just starts walking, expecting me to follow. So I do.

My legs feel wobbly, but I make it to his car. He slides into the driver's seat without a word. The second I'm inside and the door slams shut, the silence is thick.

I lean

my head against the window, eyes shut, trying to breathe past the nausea, past the mess in my head.

JUNGKOOK doesn't start the car right away. He just grips the wheel, fingers flexing, knuckles taut.

And for the first time since we got out here, he finally speaks.

"What the fuck happened in there?"